


She’s got an old death kit she’s been meaning to use

by Bridgesto



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dark, F/F, Genderswap, Girl!Derek, Girl!Stiles, Implied Torture, Kidnapping, Minor Character Death, Revenge, Rule 63, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 09:20:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bridgesto/pseuds/Bridgesto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek has been playing defense for years.  She thinks it might be time to try a new strategy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She’s got an old death kit she’s been meaning to use

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MercuryDraconix (abcellophane)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abcellophane/gifts).



> Post Season 2. 
> 
> Title from "Fake Palindromes" by Andrew Bird, though I'm not sure this is actually dark or creepy enough to deserve that song. 
> 
> This is for my lovely Mercurydraconix, who wanted dark, genderbent revenge!fic. I have done my best. 
> 
> Beta credit to Mercurydraconix as well. 
> 
> Warnings at the end.

 

The fire that killed most of Derek’s family sent her a message.  The message was: _Trust no-one but pack._

When Uncle Peter killed Laura it sent another message, and the message was: _Trust no one._ And: _You are alone._

To which Derek had said: Fuck that shit, and started building a new pack. 

\----

As far as sending messages go, Gerard was a _rank amateur._ Gerard’s message didn’t actually reach the intended recipient until _after_ the showdown with Jackson and all the drama of resolving their Kanima-related lizardly-problems.   It wasn’t until everyone was debriefing and coming down off adrenalin highs that Scott had turned to Stiles, caught sight of her bruises and said, “Dude, where were you?  And what happened to your face?”

To which Stiles had replied acidly, “ _Gerard_ happened to my face in your _girlfriend’s_ _basement._ ”

Scott had been appalled, Allison had been apologetic, and two weeks later the incident was forgotten in the need to pull together to face down a new crisis (ie. The Alpha Pack). 

When the new batch of hunters decides to send a message using one Stiles Stilinski as their medium, they do it properly.  Which is to say, the intended recipient (one Alpha Derek Hale) is _present_ during the composition of said message. 

The message is: _Fuck you_ and _this is what we do to monsters and associated_ and _don’t get attached_.

The broader message, which is for the pack, is: _Run_ and _prepare to die similarly messy deaths._

The message to Stiles is what it’s always been, the one-two punch of: _Stay out of affairs that don’t concern you._ And: _Race traitors will be punished._

The pack didn’t have to be Stiles’ business, but once given (or earned, which is not the same thing) Stiles’ loyalty is uncompromising.  It’s a character trait which is both endearing and the source of endless frustration; particularly to Derek, for whom _everyone_ is a source of endless frustration.

Scott, Boyd, and Allison lead the rescue team.  On the plus side, nobody dies.  On the minus side, Derek spends an hour drenched in Stiles’ blood and trying to delay the moment when one of Stiles’ broken ribs punctures a lung.  Also on the minus side: nobody dies, _including the hunters._

The message Derek takes away is: _This is why you can’t have nice things._

Which, Derek respectfully calls bullshit.  She is _sick_ of not having nice things, and she’s pretty sure karma owes her big-time.

_\----_

Derek waits until Stiles is out of the hospital.  Waits until the sound of her lungs has cleared, and the bruises have faded from deep blues and purples to ugly smears of green.  She sticks around to see Stiles safely ensconced Chez Stilinski and surrounded by pack.  Bits of Stiles are plaster-wrapped and most other bits are currently un-touchable without causing discomfort, so Derek tousles Stiles’ hair, wraps one hand around the back of Stiles’ neck and holds her gaze.  Stiles relaxes into the touch with a sigh. 

“Back in a week,” Derek tells her, “Stay out of trouble.”

“Sure,” Stiles says wryly, “What could go wrong?” 

Derek feels herself flinch and Stiles winces, scrunching her eyes shut and then slitting one eye open to look up at Derek guiltily.

“Sorry,” Stiles says, “I meant, I’m good! We’re good, we’ll all be good.  You have fun at your friend’s wedding and…and you stay out of trouble too.”

And _now_ there’s concern in those guileless brown eyes.  Naturally, Derek thinks sourly, she’s not worried something will happen to _her_ while I’m away, she’s worried something will happen to _me_ and she’ll be too laid-up to throw herself on the proverbial grenade _du jour._

Stiles catches her staring and her expression turns defensive. 

“What?  I’m not allowed to worry?”

“You just look after the pack,” Derek sighs, “and try not to piss off anything magical or malicious while I’m away.”

Stiles throws her a sloppy, left-handed salute and Derek rolls her eyes as she walks out the door. 

***

Derek actually _does_ have a friend’s wedding to attend, but that’s not why she’s leaving.  She thinks Boyd and Isaac suspect; she’s almost _positive_ the Sheriff suspects, but the others bought her story with a wide-eyed, trusting confidence that speaks volumes for their survival skills.  Derek is going to have to work on that. 

She has a chat with Chris Argent before she leaves town.  Or, rather, Chris shows up at the hospital while Derek is Stiles-sitting.  Stiles is unconscious, breathing through tubes, but her face is drawn with pain anyway, so Derek is doing what she can to help the Vicodin along. 

Argent stares down at the two of them, and Derek doesn’t look up at him until she’s finished and some of the tension in Stiles’ face has smoothed away.  When she’s done, Argent meets her eyes and says, “I’ll put the word out they’re code breakers.”

Derek nods.  He’s giving her permission.  Chris Argent’s shaky and uncertain allegiances have settled somewhat since the double betrayal of Kate and Gerard.  Derek still doesn’t like him, but he’s generally reliable these days, especially when it comes to things like this.

“Watch your borderlines,” he warns, and Derek nods again.

 _Don’t shit where you eat._ It’s a rule Peter had had neither the time nor the inclination to follow. Derek’s not going to make that mistake. 

So Derek leaves town with a bag packed with a week’s worth of clothing and Tess’s wedding invitation stuck to the Camaro’s dashboard.  She has another bag, too – it’s bigger, and it doesn’t contain clothing. 

She goes to the wedding.  She congratulates Tess and David, accepts their condolences about Laura, makes small talk and watches the couples dance from a table near the open bar.  The next day she checks into a shitty Motel 6 and unpacks her second bag.  Then she grabs her most non-descript sunglasses and goes for a walk.

She spends four days on reconnaissance, observing carefully, taking mental notes.  There were three of them – Laurence, Richards and Wayland – so it’s a lot of moving pieces.  They all have families, so that complicates things as well.  Fortunately, they also seem to work fairly closely with each other, so there are multiple occasions when the three of them are all in one place.  They seem to meet with some regularity, even in the few days she watches them, but they don’t seem nervous.  Maybe they think she’s too busy taking care of her pack to be a threat, or too frightened to venture beyond her territory lines for retribution. 

It takes a lot of patience, and not a little luck, but with the help of the stash of paralytic Kanima-venom, Derek manages to waylay all of them, one at a time.  It’s a Friday night and they’ve left their families at home for a night at the local bar.  Derek waits patiently in the parking lot. 

They leave in a group around 11, and they look reasonably with-it.  Two or three beers, tops – you can’t afford to let your guard down, if you’re a hunter.  But two or three beers is enough to dull the edges of awareness, and Derek is very, very fast.  She has them paralyzed, handcuffed and stuffed into the backseat of her car before any of them has time to react.  She knocks them all unconscious before she leaves and arranges them as inconspicuously as possible – wouldn’t do to pass a cop and have them raising the alarm. 

***

She takes them to Richards’ hunting cabin.  It was a good find, Derek is pretty pleased with herself for tracking it.  Besides, it’s _poetic._ Derek hauls them all out of the car, ties them up, and gags Richards and Wayland, who have nothing to say that Derek wants to hear.  Derek ties Laurence up too, but she leaves the gag off.  Then she douses them all with ice-water from the creek out back and watches them sputter awake. 

“Do you remember what I told you, the last time we met?” Derek asks Laurence casually, examining her fingernails and ignoring the other two completely. 

Laurence, a big, clean-shaven man with a buzz-cut and the look of a former linebacker, yanks at the ropes and spits curses at her.  Derek continues over him as though she hasn’t heard.

“Maybe you don’t remember?  You were torturing one of my pack.  One of my _human_ pack, which is worse because it takes _so long_ for humans to heal, have you noticed?  And so I had a lot of time to think, because every time I looked at her I was reminded of what I promised I’d do to you.  Remember now?”

Laurence stills, watching her closely.

“I said if you touched Stiles again I’d tear you apart and strangle you with your own guts.” Derek says, clear and precise.  “In case you don’t recall, that was right before you broke three of her ribs beating her to a pulp.” Derek smiles viciously and adds, “I try to keep my promises, it’s my New Year’s resolution.”

“But don’t worry,” Derek tells him, “I’m not like you.  I checked in on your family – cute kids.  Your little girl is quite the soccer star, and little Bobby is gonna grow up looking just like his daddy.”

At that Laurence goes pale, wrenching forward against the ropes, fear in his eyes for the first time. 

“Don’t,” he chokes out, “Don’t, leave them alone, leave them out of this!”

“Funny,” Derek says, “I remember saying the same thing to you not too long ago – but as I said, I’m _not_ you, and so your pretty little children will grow up just fine.  They’ll miss their daddy, but it really can’t be helped, you see…I have a family too.  And I just can’t trust you not to torture them all to death, so -” Derek spreads her hands, in a _what can you do_ gesture.

“The world’s not safe so long as your kind are running around,” Laurence tells her, “I do what I have to.”

“Yeah,” Derek says, “I almost believe you, except for the part where you nearly killed a human to make a point to me.” 

Laurence glares at her, not giving an inch.

“You’ll be at the top of every hunter’s kill-list for this,” he promises, “doubly so if you hurt my – any of our – families.”

Derek rolls her eyes.

“So long as your families keep away from me and mine, they’ll be safe.  And as for other hunters…You may not have done your research properly, so I’ll just fill you in.  Stiles?  The _teenage girl_ you almost killed?  Her father is the Sheriff in Beacon Hills.  And one of my pack is dating the daughter of Chris Argent.  We have an arrangement.  Hunters exist to protect humans from wolves.  The Argents have imposed a code, and every legitimate hunter follows that code or answers for their actions, just as you are answering for yours tonight.”

Laurence tugs once more at the ropes then stops, breathing hard. 

“You’ll answer for this.” He says with conviction.

“Not to you,” Derek replies sweetly, and moves forward, aware of the increased tension in Richards and Wayland, the way their hearts beat faster, like panicked rabbits.

Derek thinks about just killing him quickly, but then she remembers the sound of breaking bones, the way Stiles had shuddered in her arms as she tried to stop the bleeding, the look of pure, sadistic pleasure on the hunter’s face as Stiles screamed herself hoarse.  Derek has no doubt Laurence is the perfect family man, has no illusions about the absolute nature of good and evil, but he nearly killed Stiles, would likely try again, and again, until he succeeded.  And Derek needs to send a message.

In the end, Derek does exactly what she said she’d do.  She rips him open with her claws and strangles him with his own guts.  It takes a bit longer and is somewhat more complicated than she’d thought it would be.  It’s also _exceedingly_ messy, and Derek resolves to take more care with her threats from now on, if she’s going to be following through on them. 

When she’s finished, and Laurence is blue-faced and still, Derek gives the remaining hunters a feral grin and says, “Beacon Hills is covered, gentleman.  I suggest you find someplace else to hunt, or I can guarantee you’ll meet a similar fate.”

Richards and Wayland look from Derek to Laurence’s cooling body in horror, eyes wild with fear.

“I’m not going to kill you,” Derek tells them, “Everyone on my end _did_ make it out alive, and you two weren’t so much active participants as…backup muscle.  Rest assured that if that situation changes in the future you’ll be sorry.”

The hunters nod vigorously and Derek smiles her approval.

“I’m glad we understand each other,” Derek says. 

She breaks their legs before she leaves, as a warning – surgically precise, they’ll heal fine – and uses all of her senses to ensure there is no trace of her presence left behind, no hidden camera or recording device.  They’ll free themselves in an hour or so, call for help.  If Argent has done as he said, this will be taken as the warning it is, and not as the opening shot in an all-out war.  Still, Laurence had been a threat, a continuing threat and they would have had to deal with him and his lackeys sooner or later.  Derek thinks she’s been pretty restrained, considering. 

***

It’s late when Derek gets back to town, and the Sheriff answers the door.  He gives her a hard look, then steps back, inviting her in. 

“I don’t want to know,” he tells her, “but thank you.” 

Derek dips her head in acknowledgement and goes to find her pack. 

Upstairs, Scott and Allison have appropriated an air mattress on Stiles’ bedroom floor.  Erica and Boyd are curled up on a nest of blankets, and Isaac is keeping sleepy watch from a beanbag chair in the corner.  Stiles is in bed, buried under a thick pile of blankets.  Derek scents the air, identifying all of them.  Nothing is out of place.  

Isaac blinks at Derek sleepily from his chair and raises his eyebrows in question.  Derek raises her own back at him and he shrugs.  No change, then, all quiet on the home front.   Derek does a circuit of the room, reaching out to each of them, grounding herself with touch, re-staking her claim. They stir a bit as she makes the rounds, but settle back into sleep at Derek’s murmur of assurance. When she gets to Isaac she pulls him up into a fierce hug, lets him lean into her, then releases him.

Preliminaries taken care of, Derek kicks off her shoes and pads over to the bed.  Stiles is curled on her side, resting fitfully, twitching and muttering in her sleep.  The bruises have mostly faded, but she’s still a mess of plaster casting and bandages. Derek reaches out, lays one hand on Stiles’ gentle brown curls, feels her quiet under Derek’s touch.  When Derek looks up Isaac is watching her sharply.  She grins at him, bright and fierce, and says, “You can sleep now, it’s alright.” 

Isaac nods.  Derek wonders how much he guesses, but it doesn’t really matter.  She shimmies out of her jeans, pulls on a pair of Stiles’ loose sweatpants (which are too short), and slides into bed with Stiles.  Stiles wakes up enough to murmur Derek’s name, but she doesn’t startle, and when Derek wraps her in a careful embrace she just sighs and goes completely boneless against Derek’s side.  

Derek looks around at her pack with satisfaction and allows herself to drift.  There will be other dangers, of course, but it turns out Derek Hale can send messages too, and her message, in its essence, is: _I’m done playing defense.  Be warned._

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains implied and actual torture, non-graphically described. It also contains the premeditated (and fairly unpleasant) murder of a minor original character. 
> 
> Implied relationship between Derek and Stiles while Stiles is still in high school, but non-explicit and arguably gen/platonic.


End file.
